Unscene
by Catmint
Summary: Angsty little vignette. In their sixth year, a young couple are facing a confusing, turbulent world. A small insight into their lives. HADM.


Unscene

**Disclaimer: **not mine, make no money. You can try to sue but I'm about to start a three-year university course and thus have rather limited finances

**A/N:** technically this is AU because of the pairing, but it could just be viewed as an unseen scene from HBP…(hence the deliberate spelling of the title)

Finally I've had some inspiration! This is a sad, angsty little snippet of a scene. The pairing is my usual.

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The dungeons were an ideal place to meet, from the perspective of sixth-year Hannah Abbott. As far as her fellow Hufflepuffs were concerned, she was simply putting in extra work for Potions, to help in the fulfilling of her dream and ambition of becoming a mediwitch. The same went for any Slytherin that happened upon her; it was not unheard of. And the proximity to Professor Snape's office was not to be taken lightly, either. He ensured their safety. He would, she knew, do anything for his godson.

She slipped into Dungeon Number Five, a small classroom set aside specifically for NEWT-level students. It was never used outside of lessons, and Professor Slughorn had yet to use it – now that he had lowered the OWL grade requirements from O to E to get into the NEWT-level class (owing to Snape no longer teaching Potions), more students had opted for Potions at NEWT level. Dungeon Number Five was simply not big enough any more. Even before he had taken on the Defence Against the Dark Arts job, Snape had not used this particular dungeon for several years, either.

Nobody was there. She glanced at her watch – she was ten minutes early. That would explain his absence; he was probably still having his Occlumency lesson with his godfather. With nothing else to do, she fished out a copy of _Witch Weekly_ from her bag and a quill, and proceeded to draw on the picture of Celestina Warbeck on page eight, giving her devil horns, a moustache and glasses like the ones Harry Potter wore. The singer annoyed her no end and it gave her a small sense of satisfaction to do this.

The dungeon door clicked open and the boy for whom she had been waiting, appeared. He looked exhausted, his blond hair dishevelled, robes askew and tie loose around his neck. He gave her a small, barely detectable smile. "Hi, Hannah." His voice matched his appearance.

She met his grey eyes with her cornflower-blue ones, recognising the unspoken meaning that his held – he needed tonight to be a quiet evening. No kissing and giggling and normal-carefree-teenager things. Just sitting quietly and holding each other close. Maybe tears and tight, comforting hugs.

He slowly approached the desk at which she was sat and arched one pale eyebrow. "It would seem that your dislike of Miss Warbeck runs deeper than I had realised," he commented. There was a slight pause. "Although there is one thing you've missed."

Hannah frowned, scrutinising the graffiti-ed photograph. "I did?"

A nod. He picked up the quill and swiftly made Celestina Warbeck cross-eyed and added some beaver-like teeth. "There. That's better."

Hannah giggled. "Much."

He let the quill fall to the desk and wandered over to the little corner that they had claimed for their own at the end of their fifth year, after the OWLs. The playful mood had evaporated now. Hannah remained in her seat, chin propped up on her elbow, regarding him silently. Though it was only the middle of November, he already looked exhausted. He had as good as admitted that he was not sleeping well and he had definitely lost weight. He seemed worn, world-weary.

She watched him settle himself in their corner. It was quite a cosy little den now – they had both brought various items along at regular intervals, gradually accumulating them. There was a thick, soft green rug that they had adjusted magically to fit perfectly, several cushions of varying size and design, courtesy of Mrs. Abbott, five blankets, perfect for autumn and winter, three beanbags (one each of yellow, green, and blue-and-white stripes), six pillows and a duvet cover. The bookshelves were half-filled with books and other odds and ends, including several soft toys that Hannah had insisted upon. She had several more around her bed in the sixth-year Hufflepuff girls' dormitory. There were two wooden chairs and a small table. The two of them had placed strong charms on the den to ensure that none but themselves could see it, before modifying the aforementioned charms to allow the house-elves and Snape to see it.

It was the only place where Draco and Hannah could be together, outside of any lessons that they happened to share. It was harder for Draco than for Hannah, but it was far from easy for the Hufflepuff girl. Because of this, they valued their time together far more than many other couples seemed to.

"Blaise punched Theo today," commented Draco.

Hannah blinked, brought out of her thoughts. "Why?"

Draco shrugged. "Not sure exactly. Although apparently Theo made a rather derogatory remark about Blaise's mother, which I somehow doubt raised Blaise's opinion of him – not that it was very high to begin with, it has to be said. Oh, and Millicent's wretched cat went for me again. At least, that's what I told Pansy when she saw…" His voice trailed off and he met Hannah's eyes, suddenly lost and despairing.

_Witch Weekly_ was abandoned as Hannah left her seat for the den. She sat down beside him and placed one hand over his, a wave of sadness washing over her. She knew what the reference to Millicent Bulstrode's cat meant and it made her heart twist. "Can I see?"

He nodded, silently unbuttoning the cuff of his left shirt sleeve and pushing the sleeve up, exposing the wounds.

Hannah kept her face and voice calm and neutral, though it was a battle to hide from him the dismay she was feeling. "That cat must have been _really_ upset with you to do this," she remarked lightly, carefully examining the fresh slashes, which were still oozing a little blood and had stained his white school shirt.

Draco let out a dry, hollow laugh. It made Hannah shiver. "Believe me, that cat was absolutely furious."

"Do you have any idea what set him off?"

Draco's gaze, towards the opposite wall, became distant, unfocused. "The usual."

Hannah fought back the tears that were threatening as she removed a first-aid kit from the bookshelf on which it was kept. She knew, all too well, what 'the usual' meant. How many times in the last nine or ten months had they sat, here and in other places, her treating his injuries, because of that reason? She hated the word _usual_ now; for her, it signified a lack of change, the infinity symbol, the unbreaking – seemingly unbreak_able_ – vicious circle. An absence of an escape.

"How was Occlumency?" she inquired, gently but firmly securing the dressing around his arm with a bandage.

"I'm getting better – although I'll never be as good as Uncle Sev."

"How come? With time and practice…"

Draco shook his head. "He's a natural Occlumens. When you've got a background like his, you learn to shut stuff off from a very young age."

Hannah nodded in comprehension, deciphering the meaning, the unspoken words.

Draco reached up and flicked on the wireless, turning down the volume so that the classical music was soft in the background. "I wish we were back in fourth year."

"What makes you say that?" Hannah pushed a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear as she put the first-aid kit back in its place.

"No OWLs, no NEWTs…No external pressures. Aunt Bella safely inside Azkaban – best place for her, really; she's completely lost her marbles – although Mum said she wasn't sure if she had them all in the first place…Things were so much simpler back in fourth year." He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, staring unseeingly at the wall once again.

Hannah slipped her arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his. She knew that there was much that he was not saying, things that were troubling him deeply. She wished that he would open up to her, share the burden that was so clearly breaking him gradually and painfully. As the term had progressed, he had grown more and more quiet, had withdrawn more and more into himself. "What's changed this year, Draco?" she asked softly.

He closed his eyes and let out a weary sigh. "The whole world's changed. My own world changed when my father got arrested in that business at the Ministry. _I'm_ the 'man of the house' now. Mum's terrified of what might happen to her because of my father…I wish everything could go back to how it was."

"Me too," replied Hannah sadly. "But we've still got each other. That's got to count for something."

He nodded, hesitating before he eventually spoke. "But for how much longer? If anyone finds out about us, we're done for. Everything's changing so much now…"

"I know."

They lapsed into silence again, the only sounds in the room coming from the wizarding wireless on the shelf. Two teenagers, innocence gone but lost in a complex, rapidly-changing world that they no longer understood, clinging desperately to each other because they had nowhere else to turn. Draco squeezed Hannah's hand tightly, as though it were his only lifeline. She in return held him close, scared to let go, as though afraid that something would happen to him to tear them apart forever.

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¤ **le fin **¤


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